1,2,3 Don't Count On Me
by RadicalRae
Summary: Luci has always been alone, has never met anyone who isn't scared. Negan shows up, and things change. Rated for language and possible suggestive themes.
1. Chapter 1

**Before you ask, yes, I am actually writing for a tv show, and not an anime or a game that I love. I will warn you that I don't really have a love for Walking Dead, but I used to think it was awesome because I love anything that's horror or has zombies in it. Obviously, this an au sort of thing, because I'm not even gonna mention Alexandria or Rick and Carl or any of them.**

 **I wanted to write about Negan and my character. Mostly my character. I'm just glad I can get Negan right. I love the way he talks.**

 **Goldilocks = Dwight.**

 **I don't own anything but me boy.**

 **~~~looky loo a line break~~~**

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He's found that most people are scared of the apocalypse, are scared of the things that walk around outside. He isn't. While most people panic, he charges in and dispatches the corpses with an elegant flip of long knives (machetes, he has to remember that) and then he goes back and eats breakfast like there isn't dark rotting blood staining his hands, like there aren't really dead bodies all around him as he eats.

He scares people. Even before the dead got up and started eating other people, even before people turned on people and became savages fighting to survive. He's always scared people.

He walks too quietly, he rarely ever speaks, he doesn't announce his presence, he's just there, and the scar doesn't help much. It stretches from his left eyebrow all the way down to the left corner of his mouth, ugly and webbed and so very noticeable. He hates it, he hates it for scaring people, he hates it for what it represents and who gave it to him - he was thirteen. His dad had been drinking and was an abusive drunk. He drank all the time, but that night was worse. He said something rude, and his dad put his face against the hot grates if the stove.

He remembers the police did nothing, because he'd always gotten in trouble and they thought he was just grasping for attention. His dad stopped being dad and became a monster to his son. Said son ran away when he was 17. He never looked back and he'd never regretted leaving. He avoided people, he kept his head down and worked where he could, wherever his scar didn't matter.

Of course, when the apocalypse hit, that left him with only a scraggly group of car mechanics that didn't speak english and a wrench in both hands. He'd gone with those men from work, only because he had no one else, but they acted out of emotion and eventually he left them behind. He was sure they were dead now.

He knew how to hunt and forage, how to climb trees and seek shelter, he knew how to kill and how cover his tracks.

Right now though, he was running. His boots slapped against the asphalt as he ran, the moans and snarls of the dead just behind him, all around him. He ducked under reaching arms and leapt over fallen corpses. He ran until he hit the tree line, and that's when he started looking. He took a flying leap off of an embankment, wincing as he nearly slipped while running through the cold water.

 _There!_

A tree just old enough to have thick branches and footholds for him to climb it. He didn't have time to hide his hiking backpack and all his gear, so he climbed up that trunk with it all on his back, the straps digging into his shoulders and stomach. He kept climbing until he reached the highest branch that would hold his weight, and then he leaned again the trunk and clung to the branch he was on, panting and gasping for breath.

The dead converged around the tree, moaning and shrieking, hungry for warm, living flesh. For his flesh.

His chest ached and his legs burned, but still, there was always more to be done. He managed to get his rope from his bag, along with his canteen and a tarp. He quickly threw the rope over the branch above him, looped the ends around the branch he was on, and then over his legs and tied it so he wouldn't fall. He wedged his canteen between his knees, then arranged the tarp over himself. He'd wait this out, something would eventually distract the walkers and then he could escape.

Shit, his canteen was fucking empty. Just great.

 **~~~Line Break~~~**

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When he woke, he woke to light filtering through the treetops and to near silence. He twisted and looked down, finding to his delight that the walkers had left sometime in night. He dismissed the bodies he could see, deciding that it was capable that they either weren't _dead_ dead, or that someone had come through while he'd still been asleep.

Either way, he packed up his things, untied the rope, and carefully climbed down the tree. His feet barely touched the ground when he felt something cold and suspiciously like the barrel of a gun press against the back of his head.

"Oh, fuck me." He cursed, turning slowly to find some blond dude standing behind him. Just the one. Blondie took an actual step back upon seeing the scar on his face, and he smiled. People had always been scared of him.

"Why don't you put that gun down, goldilocks? I won't hurt you, wouldn't dream of it." He inched forward, purposely dropping his empty canteen. It gave out a hollow thud as it hit the ground, and he bent down to retrieve it. There was a knife hidden in the straps of his boot, and if he could just wriggle it free...

"I wouldn't fucking do that kid. Lucille doesn't fucking like that at all."

He jerked up, canteen and knife forgotten, and realized that goldilocks wasn't alone. A man - taller than goldilocks but just an inch or so shorter than himself, with a scruffy beard and salt and pepper hair - came out of the shadows of the tree, swinging bat wrapped in barbed wire. More men stepped out of the shadows, holding guns and knives, anything to make a weapon.

Just his fucking luck. His knife was in his boot, his only gun was in his bag...He slowly put his hands up, gloves as they were, and glared at Goldilocks, then at the man with his wire wrapped stupid bat.

"Well well, what the fuck happened to your face? Looks like someone did a number on you already!" The bat-man was howling with laughter, and the men nervously laughed. He moved, just flexing his left arm and let his gaze rake over the men, testing something. A few of them stepped back, some actually looking scared. Others glared back at him.

"You know, I expect a fucking answer when I ask a question. What the fuck happened to your face?" The man spoke again, this time closer to him and pointing that bat at him. He simply arched his non-scarred eyebrow, waiting. He'd learned that every man had a weakness; their temper.

A minute dragged on where no one spoke. The bat-man was getting angry, and he was delighted by it.

"Alright, you won't answer that, I fucking understand. What's your name?"

Ah, now here was a question he could answer! He smiled, real nice, making his scar stretch thin enough to show the outline of his teeth. Somewhere in the tree line, someone gagged. Goldilocks covered his mouth, looking sick. _Good._

"Luci." He heard someone laugh, and that just made him grin. He loved it when they thought his name was funny. When they laughed he could slip a knife through their ribs.

"Isn't that a girl's name? Don't fucking tell me your names a girl name? Ha! That's fucking comedy gold that is. Well, Luci, I'm Negan, and now you and your shitty girly name belong to me. And if you say no, Lucille will have something to fucking say about it."

Luci shrugged, although at this point he was fine with that. It was easy to crawl under fences and scale a building, and he wasn't scared of some guy with a bat. He let his hands drop to his sides, sliding them into the pockets of his coat. Negan apparently took this as surrender and started shouting orders to his men. One tried taking his gear, but one of his best I-will-fucking-destroy-you glares put a stop to that.

He heard his name and saw goldilocks gesturing for him to follow them. He did, footsteps quiet as ever. Goldilocks pushed him in front, keeping hand against the fabric of his hiking bag. Negan was just ahead, whistling and swinging that bat of his.

Luci wondered what would happen if he snapped that piece of obviously worshiped wood over his knee. Negan turned to look at him, grinning like a fucking madman, and Luci knew his own mirrored that, though with more teeth.

That time, he distinctly heard someone throw up, and felt the pressure on his back falter.

He threw his head back and laughed, and behind him Goldilocks called him a lunatic and spat that he was gonna fucking die, which only made him want to laugh harder.

Ahead of him, Negan kept grinning. Luci liked this one, if only because he wasn't scared.

He's found that most people are scared of the apocalypse, are scared of the things that walk around outside. He isn't, and he's pretty damn sure he just found someone else not afraid of those things. Not afraid of the way he walks, of his scar.

Anyone else would cry with relief. He just grinned and snickered and made sure to piss off goldilocks when he could.


	2. 4, 5, 6

**I'm back with more~. Negan's view this time of dear old Luci trying to sass Dwight.**

 **~~~LINE BREAK~~~**

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Negan isn't sure, at first, what to think of the skinny man that climbs down the tree like a fucking monkey, but he sure as hell knows it isn't anything close to threatening. The man has wild black hair in a desperate need of a haircut, and his eyes are the kind of grey that you'd expect from a storm cloud. His skin is pale (where he can see it) but when he turns around and shows that damn scar...

Negan feels like someone just punched him in the gut, because he wasn't expecting that kind of thing to be on a man's face like that. He can see that whoever made that scar had the intention of it staying for years to come. He wants to say something then and now, but scar face is talking and Negan wants to savor the sound of such a raspy voice.

Guy must be a smoker.

He calls Dwight goldilocks and then drops his canteen, bending slowly to pick it up. Negan decides enough is enough, and steps forward into the light.

"I wouldn't fucking do that kid. Lucille doesn't fucking like that at all."

The black haired man jerks up, and Negan gets a good look at that single grey eye. He realizes it's not really grey, but a very dull blue with flecks of silver dotting the stormy depths. There's no apparent anger in those depths, just a bit of frustration at having been caught maybe, but this guy looks totally fucking relaxed despite being surrounded.

He swung Lucille, her familiar presence a comfort against this stranger's grating calmness.

"Well well, what the fuck happened to your face? Looks like someone did a number on you already!" He can't help but to ask, because that scar really is gruesome, and he wants to know what happened. The man says nothing, he just stares as if he didn't hear the question. He feels anger bubble up in his chest, but shoves it down.

"You know, I expect a fucking answer when I ask a question. What the fuck happened to your face?" Negan waves the bat at him, but the man just continues to keep his silence, and he feels like punching him to bruise that pretty grey eye, or tear at the scar tissue making up the other half of his face. Still, he receives no answer. He switches topics, but knows he'll just ask later.

"Alright, you won't answer that, I fucking understand. What's your name?"

"Luci." He's smiling now, and Negan can see the outline of his teeth through the stretched out scar. It's gross, but now he just wants to touch it and see if it felt as webby and hot as it looked.

The next few moments flash by, and soon Dwight is leading Luci into a truck and struggling to get the possibly insane man to let go of his hiking bag. Negan chuckles at the sight, and a grey eye finds him, gleaming with mirth, and Luci finally let's Dwight have the bag, but he's threatening him to not touch it, and his voice is raspy and hoarse and Negan sort of likes it.

Dwight shoves him into the back of the truck Negan is in, and he turns to give the blond double birds. Dwight throws a punch, but he easily catches it and lightly shoves Dwight away. His harsh laughter can be heard through the glass of the windows, as can Dwight's cursing and empty threats.

"Lets go boys!" He shouts to the others, holding Lucille in a firm grasp.

 _Luci is a girl's name._ Negan thinks, eyes catching the scarred stranger's intense gaze in the mirror. _But this guy is fucking feral, like a goddamn bitch without a leash._

Luci viciously kicks one of his men off the truck bed for touching his legs (which he notes are ridiculously long, even for someone who's as tall as this freak is) and Negan catches the outline of his teeth through the scar tissue, and once again he wants to just wants to press his hand against it and feel his jaw move underneath.

 _Goddamn, maybe I should keep this one. Give this bitch a fucking leash._

Luci slams his hand against the window, leaning in close to glare real hard at the road ahead. Negan refuses to turn his head or look in the mirror, because he really doesn't need to get caught up in staring at that single eye or at that scar, or how thick black hair falls just so to cover the missing eyebrow and empty socket.

Yeah, he definitely needs a haircut.


End file.
